#ppaah

Bonnie had long since learned that Kat, for all that she was great at putting on a mask of nonchalance, was actually easily affected by what she’d lived and how she acted in the past and it was clear - to Bonnie at least - that this other Katherine was less the side of Kat when she’d met Roxy - overcompensation to the max, confidence through the roof until Roxy brushed it off and flirted with her outrageously sincere until they found themselves in a semi committed relationship for half a year - and more similar to the version of Kat that had been making amends with the Salvatores and risking her life making peace offerings to Klaus - terrified, depressed and all too quiet, moving from room to room with a cloud of self-hatred following her and fangs bared to prevent anyone asking about it. Bonnie worried. And she hoped that Roxy could see what she saw too, before she had to have a repeat of the clock tower from a few years ago.

“Do you want something, Wicked Witch?” 

Bemused, Bonnie turned to Damon, leaning against the kitchen counter, glass of bourbon - filled to the rim - in his hand. She was about to retort as she usually would to the version she knew of the man, the one that was her best friend when she noted another worrying thing about this universe. His hair was unkept, his shirt the same as the one from yesterday - small patch of grease from where Kat had spilled on him accidently at dinner present on his sleeve - and the beginnings of a stubble - something she’d only ever seen from Damon once and only once, in the Prison world, just before they made their suicide pact. What was going on in this universe?

“Just wondering if there’s any snacks in the pantry. And taking a break from the Chaos Twins.” 

She watched carefully for his reaction. It wasn’t really much of one. A sip of bourbon, a shrug and tiny pull at the corner of his mouth that she couldn’t even tell if it was meant to be a smile or a grimace. 

“Feel free to check.” he replied and took a bigger swig, pushing off the counter to make way but not moving too far. He seemed intent on watching her as well.

“Where’s everyone else today?” 

“Stefan and Blondie are visiting Liz again. Bon wanted to open the shop today.” 

Well. That was more forthcoming than Bonnie had expected out of him.

“How’s Liz?”

She saw the second the question registered because his eyes darkened and a frown pulled at the muscles of his face. Not well went unspoken but she understood nonetheless and shook her head, preventing his answer. “Nevermind, you don’t have to answer that.” 

“Huh.” he seemed alost surprised that she didn’t push further, another red flag as far as Bonnie was concerned. She’d worked hard to make Damon realize he was allowed to have boundaries with the people he loved - it had felt only fair since he’d helped her enforce her own. “Thanks, witchy.”

There was a beat then, silence save for the rustle of the bag of chips she pulled from the pantry. It wasn’t comfortable, but she couldn’t really say it was awkward either. Just sort of hesitant.

“I heard about Elena. I’m sorry.” She wasn’t. But he seemed like he needed the words, if the slack jawed look he gave her then was any indication. Then she worried even more when his eyes got teary and his jaw tightened suddenly - the shock replaced by understanding of what she’d said. He didn’t say anything, swallowing a few times as though maybe he’d wanted to but didn’t dare, trying to control his breathing when it went shaky. He downed the glass and slammed it down onto the island to hide the shake in his hand, but she saw it, too used to catching the minutiae of Damon Salvatore to escape her notice. The glass shattered.

“Fuck!” 

“Oh shit! Ok… Damon?” she tried to catch his gaze but he was already moving and cursing under his breath, holding onto his wrist. “Damon! Wait!” She caught his arm, ignored his struggling to pull away - not too much since she was able to hold on. “We need to pull the glass out before you can heal. Lemme help.”

“I know we need to get the glass out Bonnie, I’ve been injured before.” But he let himself be led to the other side of the island and sat onto a chair facing her. Bonnie tried to ignore the sharp look he sent her way when she began muttering a simple levitation spell under her breath - useful for pulling out all the shards, even the tiniest ones with minimal invasiveness - and leant back in his seat, letting her work. She was so focused on the spell that she didn’t realize she’d began stroking his knuckles where she was holding onto his hand - the gesture ingrained now, after years of being Damon’s friend - so she missed the hurt contemplative look on his face when he felt her caress. 

He cursed under his breath when she pulled a jagged edge out of the bridge of his palm and she shushed him softly, a soft uttered pain numbing spell following. Once the glass was out, the cuts began to quickly heal and Bonnie watched as she still sometimes did when seeing vampires heal - fascinated and grateful that her loved ones were okay. She let her fingers trace the longer cuts, fingertips barely grazing his skin - something she’d picked up in the prison world with her own injuries and ended up using everytime she healed someone she loved now, a sort of comfort saying you’re okay now, it’s passed. She felt his shiver, heard the hitch in his breath and turned confused eyes to his only to realize where she was when she saw the warring emotions in his gaze. 

This wasn’t her Damon. 

This wasn’t the man who’s stayed up with her, nights on end mourning her dad’s death in the Prison World, wasn’t the man who’d convinced her to jump off of the Falls once they returned home and had a day of peace, only to then slip when she went under and had to be saved, scratching his arm on a rock and almost giggling when she’d healed him, her fingertips grazing his arm softly like she’d just done, self care now shared with others. This wasn’t the man she had movie nights with and gossip brunches, not the man she’d walked down the aisle at his wedding, her fingers caressing his as she felt his nervousness. 

No, this Damon was hurt, and unaccustomed by the tactile ease Bonnie and the Damon she knew had wrapped around their friendship like a warm blanket. So the heat in his gaze was unmarred by the joking glint her Damon usually responded with. 

This Damon meant it. 

And suddenly Bonnie understood what Katherine had meant to achieve when she’d asked Roxy’s help. This Damon had just lost Elena and had never learnt what hers had ages ago - he was enough on his own and a lover was just someone to share the day with, not make one’s whole universe. She licked lips then, not meaning anything by it really, but maybe unconsciously she’d wondered at his reaction. She had to bite her tongue when she saw his eyes darken - arousal this time, not heartache - and caught his gaze flit to her mouth before swiftly pulling away, yanking his hand from between hers and grabbing a new bottle of bourbon before exiting, the sound of slamming doors echoing in her ears as her mind began turning as plan after plan formed and reformed.

Well. This was interesting. 

This Damon wanted her. Well, not her per se - luckily since she kind of had a thing for Enzo back home and the thought of being with Damon was weird by now, too used to the one she knew, who was several years into being happily married - but he definitely wanted Bonnie. 

“Oh no. No no no! You just gave me a cease and desist not 5 minutes ago!” Roxy warned, paused in the doorway, eyeing Bonnie with a grin on her lips. Bonnie moved behind the counter, grabbed her chips and opened the bag with a shrug, offering some to Roxy. She waited for her friend to finish her mouthful before she gave an answering grin in reply, plan now formed fully in her mind. Time to join the Chaos Twins.

“Like you don’t join in” she teased, finally sitting up and scrunching her face as goosebumps rose on her skin. God, it was cold outside. Frowning, she scanned the room, noting that the balcony door was still open, wind sharp and billowing around her spouse's silhouette in the doorway. “Please close that”

It was a whine, pleading, and obnoxious; and her husband was laughing at her pain as soon as the words left her mouth, but thankfully stepping inside and shutting the door closed. He rounded their bed, sat on the edge. She crawled closer, wound her arms around his waist and jammed her icy nose right in his side as he yelped. She burrowed even closer as he wrapped his arms around her to the best of his ability with a twisted position. Muffled, she asked when he had to leave, nuzzling further, curling her body around him, trying to keep him by her side.

“Couple minutes.” he said, leaning his head on her shoulder, kissing her cheek. “What are you planning today?”

“Same as everyday” cheeky, smirk tugging at the edges of her lips and he laughed, loud and warm. She loved his laugh.

“Does that make me Pinky? Cuz I feel I should be insulted.”

“Nah. You’re the lovable one, I’m the megalomaniac.”

A quiet moment. Her neck was starting to really hurt now. She lay back down, stretching on her back and then swinging her legs over him and onto the floor.

“Time to get up I guess” she sighed and glanced back at him just falling backward onto the blankets. “Wait for me?” she called out from the bathroom and took his hum as affirmative. He didn’t get up until she was done getting dressed, then just joined her in the bathroom to check his hair. It had grown a little longer than he usually kept it - something she was starting to adore. It meant that by morning it would curl slightly with sleep and she got to see it in the rare mornings when she woke first, before he’d lock himself in the bathroom and straightened it back to the style he’d taken to, in the last hundred or so years. She’s been relentless in her attempts to get him to stop; she wanted to bury her hands in those soft curls - been wanting that since seeing a picture of him back when he’d still been human. She’d failed thus far - and for all he was usually shit at hiding things, his hair straightener has eluded her for years now.

As soon as they exited their apartment, music was heard from somewhere outside. Roxy smiled, bouncing on her feet and mumbling under her breath the lyrics once she recognized the song. Her husband took her hand and twirled her to the beat as they continued down the corridor to the elevators. He made to dip her, but she dodged underneath his arm and ran inside the cabin, beckoning him as she pressed the bottom floor button. Shaking his head - she could be very predictable sometimes and they both knew half the time he pretended to be shocked at her antics - he walked in. The music got louder the closer they got to the entertainment area - poolside, stage, dancefloor, bar, whatever you wanted to call it, it had everything. It was there that they’d have to split, but there was another corridor until that and another song they both liked coming on in the meantime that delayed them further.

They were rounding the corner, her in a slight waltzing step, him trying to catch her hand to pull her along, when she felt it from the closet. She stopped, expression smoothening initially, then brows furrowing slightly, lips pressing, her head snapping to the left to stare at the door. He’d been singing along.